EDITH 

A  Story  of  Chinatown 


BY 


HARRY  M.  JOHNSON. 


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EDITH 
A  STORY  OF  CHINATOWN 


BY 

HARRY  M.  JOHNSON 


BOSTON 
ARENA  PUBLISHING  CO. 

COPLEY    SQUARE 

1895 


Copyrighted,  1895 

BY 
ARENA  PUBLISHING  COMPANY 

All  rights  reserved 


ARENA  PRINT 


INTRODUCTION. 


The  little  story  that  appears  in 
the  following  pages  was  not  written 
for  the  purpose  of  pampering  the 
depraved  tastes  of  a  certain  class  of 
book  readers  who  crave  sensational 
literature.  It  was  upon  the  theory 
that  "if  we  could  see  ourselves  as 
others  see  us"  good  would  result,  that 
the  story  was  written;  that  if  the 
residents  of  the  larger  Pacific-slope 
cities :  could  be  brought  to  realize 
the  shocking  condition  of  the  moral 
atmosphere  of  their  communities, 
they  would  not  be  slow  in  mending 
the  existing  state  of  affairs,  which 
has  been  of  such  long  standing  that, 
through  its  very  familiarity,  it  has 
lost  its  hideousness  to  native-born 
Californians  and  old  residents. 

It  was  upon  the  occasion  of  the 
writer's  first  visit  to  Chinatown, 
Los  Angeles,  that  the  material  for 


2  INTE  OD  UCTION. 

the  little  tale  was  gathered.  He 
was  a  "tenderfoot"  in  the  far  West, 
and  the  conditions  found  on  Ala- 
meda  Street  were  a  shocking  sur- 
prise. The  author  was  impressed 
with  winder  that  the  valiant 
modern  crusaders  who  wield  pen 
and  pencil  had  not  long  since 
turned  their  effective  batteries  up- 
on the  iniquitous  conditions  to  be 
found  there. 

The  facts  as  presented  in  the  story 
have  not  been  exaggerated  in  the 
least — the  picture  has  not  been 
overdrawn.  In  the  city  of  Los 
Angeles  one  may  search  the  muni- 
cipal statute-books  in  vain  for  legis- 
lation calculated  to  suppress  or  con- 
trol this  vice.  The  traffic  that  in 
all  civilized  centres  of  life  is  con- 
sidered a  moral  crime,  and  in  most 
communities  is  a  statutory  of- 
fence, is  wholly  ignored  in  the 
larger  cities  of  the  Golden  West, 
and  consequently  thrives  beyond 
comprehension  and  to  the  amazed 


INTBODUCTION.  3 

wonder  of  residents  of  better  regu- 
lated Eastern  cities. 

While  the  story  deals  only  with 
Los  Angeles,  the  conditions  are 
manifoldly  worse  in  that  part  of 
San  Francisco's  Chinatown  known 
as  Du  Pont  Street.  Probably  in 
no  city  in  the  United  States  does 
vice — the  social  evil — thrive  as  it 
does  within  the  Golden  Gates  of 
this  western  metropolis. 

Among  the  fellow-travelers  of 
the  writer  on  the  homeward  bound 
trip  was  a  resident  of  San  Fran- 
cisco, a  man  attired  in  striped  rai- 
ment of  the  "loudest"  type  and 
wearing  a  sparkling  shirt  stud  of 
the  prodigious  proportions  so  sug- 
gestive of  paste.  On  one  occasion 
the  conversation  among  the  party 
of  gentlemen  gathered  in  the  smok- 
ing compartment  of  the  Pullman 
turned  upon  the  social  conditions 
existing  upon  the  coast.  In  the 
course  of  the  discussion  he  of  the 
striped  clothes  proudly  stated  that 


4  INTRODUCTION. 

no  city  in  the  Union  would  compare 
with  'Frisco  in  "life  and  sport"  from 
the  hour  of  midnight  to  the  break 
of  dawn.  It  is  needless  to  state  that 
"life  and  sport,"  as  understood  by 
the  man  of  the  paste  pin,  are  syn- 
onymous with  what  might  be,  per- 
haps inelegantly  but  expressively, 
termed  rotten  immorality  and 
licentiousness. 

Eight  here  let  it  be  said  that, 
although  Chinatown  bears  the 
odium  of  harboring  the  infamous 
"cribs,"  the  Chinese  are  not  respon- 
sible for  their  existence  or  support. 
While  the  inmates  are  mainly 
French  or  Spanish  girls  (with  a  fair 
proportion  of  daughters  of  America 
and  a  sprinkling  of  Japanese  and 
females  of  other  nationalities),  upon 
Americans  mainly  lie  the  dishonor 
and  shame  of  perpetuating  these 
hell-holes.  Native-born  Califor- 
nians  or  the  adopted  sons  of  the 
state  who  have  drifted  in  from  the 


INTR  OD  UCTION.  5 

East  constitute  the  bulk  of  the 
patrons  of  the  "cribs." 

The  old  campaign  cry,  "Chinese 
need  not  apply,"  might  still  be 
heard  from  the  lips  of  the  unfortu- 
nates who  are  on  sale  at  the  "cribs" 
should  the  almond-eyed  denizen  of 
Chinatown  presume  to  spend  his 
money  in  this  section  of  the  Town. 

The  cribs  are  located  in  China- 
town and  constitute  a  part  of  that 
section  of  the  city  both  in  'Frisco 
and  Los  Angeles,  but  are  not  patron- 
ized by  the  Chinese;  the  inmates  as 
a  rule  consider  it  "debasing"  to  re- 
ceive Chinese  patronage,  and  the 
policeman  on  the  beat  told  the 
writer  that  he  never  knew  of  but 
two  or  three  instances  where  the 
girls  would  take  the  Chinaman's 
money.  They  are  located  in  China- 
town principally  for  the  reason  thai 
it  is  the  meanest  section  of  the  city, 
and  lawlessness  and  immorality 
naturally  gravitate  to  such  locali- 
ties and  away  from  clean  surround- 


6  INTE  OD  UCTION. 

ings  and  clear  moral  atmosphere. 
The  fact,  however, that  the  "cribs'* 
flourish  and  carry  on  their  disgrace- 
ful traffic  in  the  most  untrammelled 
manner,  yea  even  under  the  protec- 
tion of  the  law  in  a  certain  measure, 
is  a  disgrace  to  the  community  as  a 
whole,  and  must  be  laid  at  the  door 
of  every  respectable  citizen  who  has 
a  vote  that  he  can  cast  at  the  ballot- 
box  and  a  voice  in  the  conduct  of 
the  affairs  of  his  city. 

HARRY  M.  JOHNSON. 
Kockford,  111.,  April  24,  1895. 


CHAPTER   I. 

It  was  the  twenty-fifth  of  January 
in  the  year  of  our  Lord,  1895,  and  to 
Jack  Sherwood  had  been  assigned 
the  task  of  "doing"  Chinatown  —  of 
getting  up  for  the  next  morning's 
paper  a  readable  story  on  the  sights 
and  scenes  he  might  encounter  in 
that  interesting  section  of  the  city; 
of  the  novel  features  of  the  New 
Year  celebration  which  would  be 
inaugurated  by  the  "Heathen 
Chinee"  on  that  date  and  continue 
throughout  the  week.  Jack  was 
the  latest  recruit  on  the  sheet  he 
represented ;  he  was  fresh  from  the 
East  and  had  never  seen  China- 
town, and  it  was  for  this  reason, 
doubtless,  that  he  had  been  given 
the  assignment  by  the  long-headed 


8  EDITH. 

managing  editor.  To  the  veterans 
on  the  force  "the  Town"  was  an  old 
story.  Jack  would  see  things  in 
their  freshest,  most  striking  aspect, 
and  from  his  pen  something  inter- 
esting and  new  might  reasonably 
be  expected.  He  liked  the  assign- 
ment; much  that  was  strange  to 
this  "tenderfoot"  had  fallen  to  his 
lot  during  the  few  weeks  he  had 
thus  far  spent  on  the  western, 
sunny  slopes  of  Uncle  Sam's  great 
domain,  but  he  promised  himself 
the  most  interesting  night's  work  of 
his  life,  as  he  gratefully  acknowl- 
edged the  assignment  to  his  grim 
superior. 

Sherwood  had  left  the  blustering 
East  a  few  weeks  prior  to  the  dawn 
of  this  New  Year  day  of  the  Chinese. 
He  had  served  the  editors  of  more 
than  one  of  the  great  dailies  of  the 


A  STOBT  OF  CHINATOWN.  9 

metropolis,  with  greater  or  less 
satisfaction  to  them  and  profit  to 
himself.  He  was  not  lacking,  in 
ability,  was  calculated  to  hold  his 
own,  in  fact,  in  the  throng  of  bright, 
energetic,  gifted  young  men  who 
glut  the  brain  markets  of  the  great 
centres  of  life  in  the  East.  Still, 
when  Jack  announced  his  intention 
of  throwing  up  his  "job,"  the  man- 
aging editor  did  not  show  signs  of 
the  sorrow  with  which  this  great 
disaster  should  have  weighted  his 
heart;  did  not  even  so  much  as  offer 
an  additional  salary  inducement  to 
keep  the  malcontent  on  the  force. 
On  the  contrary,  he  distinctly  inti- 
mated, by  his  tone  and  bearing,  that 
it  was  more  than  likely  that  the 
sheet  would  survive  the  blow, 
though,  to  his  credit  be  it  said  (and 
to  Jack's  also,  for  that  matter),  he 


10  EDITH. 

did  write  some  very  sugary  and 
pleasant  things  about  the  young 
journalist,  in  the  letter  of  reconi 
mendation  which  he  solicited. 
With  two  or  three  other  similar 
documents,  a  railroad  ticket  as  long- 
as  his  arm,  and  pasteboard  author- 
ity for  boarding  a  Pullman  and 
occupying  one  of  its  comfortable 
berths  —  with  these  in  his  inside 
pocket,  and  his  purse  by  no  means 
overburdened  with  the  coin  of  the 
realm,  Jack  packed  up  his  earthly 
belongings  and  started  on  his 
journey  across  the  continent.  He 
had  no  particular  reason  for  mak- 
ing the  change;  no  man  in  his  right 
mind  would  have  thrown  up  a  snug 
berth  in  the  East  and  started  for 
California  on  a  rainbow-chasing 
trip.  Not  that  Jack  was  daft,  by  a 
long  shot;  no  jury  (not  even  an 


A  STORY  OF  CHINATOWN.          11 

American  one)  could  have  found 
cause  for  sending  him  to  an  asylum 
for  the  unsound  of  mind;  still  it 
was  not  prudent,  to  say  the  least,  to 
wholly — and  for  no  other  reason 
than  a  desire  for  a  change,  for  ad- 
ventures, and  a  glimpse  of  the  Far 
West — disregard  the  sound,  hoary- 
headed,  and  safe  adage  bearing  up- 
on the  incompatibility  of  moss  and 
rolling  stones  keeping  each  other 
company.  But  then  Jack  never 
could  see  what  earthly  pleasure  or 
profit  the  pebble  derived  from  the 
accumulation  of  green,  damp  vege- 
tation. It  only  served  to  cloud  its 
enjoyment  of  the  sunshine;  and,  for 
himself,  he  would  infinitely  prefer 
to  be  rolling  about,,  untrammelled 
by  moss  and  kindred  accumula- 
tions, luxuriating  in  the  joys  he 
picked  up  by  the  wayside. 


12  EDITH. 

Anyway,  he  found  himself  com- 
fortably ensconced  in  a  Pullman, 
fortified  for  the  long  journey  with 
the  latest  light  literature,  a  box  of 
his  favorite  Havanas,  and  the  old 
black-briar,  companion  and  solace 
of  many  a  long  year  past.  But  even 
these  pleasures  paled — lost  their 
power  to  wholly  and  satisfactorily 
mutilate  the  long  hours  that  bur- 
dened the  tourist's  life  —  and,  by 
way  of  diversion,  he  fell  to  studying 
the  fellow-creatures  about  him.  But 
fate  had  not  dealt  over-kindly  with 
our  Jack  even  in  the  small  matter 
of  arranging  his  traveling  compan- 
ions. Not  a  young  maiden  of  any 
description  had  taken  passage  on 
the  Pullman, — stay,  there  was  one, 
a  Norwegian  nurse-girl  who  had 
charge  of  a  lad  of  tender  years  be- 
longing to  the  couple  in  the  forward 


A  STOEY  OF  CHINATOWN.          13 

section.  But  she  was  such  an  ill- 
begotten  specimen  of  her  kind  that 
Jack's  greatest  flights  of  fancy 
could  not  conceive  of  anything  in- 
teresting or  entertaining  in  her 
make-up,  even  had  her  social  stand- 
ing warranted  an  impromptu  flirta- 
tion. It  was  very  evident  that 
romance  was  to  have  no  place  in  the 
trip  of  the  young  scribe,  and  so  he 
turned  his  thoughts  to  other  mat- 
ters. 

And  in  the  course  of  sleeping-car 
events  he  became  not  a  little  inter- 
ested in  a  sweet  old  lady  and,  inci- 
dentally, her  sterner  half,  who  oc 
cupied  the  section  second  removed 
from  his  own,  in  front.  Something 
about  the  soft  brown  eyes  reminded 
Jack  of  the  dear  good  mother  who 
had  left  him  so  many  years  ago. 
Had  she  lived  to  bless.  Ms  lonely 


14  EDITH. 

days  (careless  Jack  tried  to  imagine 
himself  a  lonely,  solitary,  melan- 
choly figure  in  life)  she  would  be 
about  the  age  of  the  motherly-look- 
ing dame  beyond  him.  Only,  Jack 
hoped  she  would  not  have  borne  the 
look  of  great  sorrow,  of  saddening, 
cankering  grief,  that  sat  upon  the 
features  and  shone  from  the  mild 
brown  eyes  of  the  quiet,  silent  lady 
of  section  three.  Handsome  she 
still  was,  despite  the  snowy  hair, 
frosted  more  likely  by  sorrow  than 
by  years;  and  Jack  amused  himself 
with  a  mental  vision  of  that  sweet- 
faced  woman  when  she  had  just 
turned  her  twentieth  birthday; 
when  the  soft  light-brown  hair  had 
riotously  waved  over  the  smooth 
brow;  when  laughter  and  love  and 
merriment  had  beamed  from  bright 
hazel  eyes,  and  the  dimpled,  shapely 


A  STORY  OF  CHINATOWN.          15 

face  had  been  abloom  with  the  be- 
witching colors  and  contours  of 
budding  womanhood. 

"Ah !  she  must  have  been  a  hand- 
some girl,"  pondered  Jack,  "before 
the  coming  of  the  sorrow  that  aged 
her,  that  left  its  scar  upon  body  and 
soul,  that  is  pictured  to  all  who  gaze 
into  those  sad  eyes.  Wonder  where 
the  old  couple  came  from,  whither 
they  are  going,  and  what  the  story 
of  their  life-sorrow  may  be?  I  will 
<punip>  the  old  man,  if  he  gives  me 
half  a  chance,  just  to  keep  my  hand 
in  practice." 

Accordingly  the  following  morn- 
ing, when  the  "old  man"  (who,  it 
has  been  intimated, either  by  nature 
or  through  circumstances  had  be- 
come a  little  crusty  and  stern)  made 
his  appearance  in  the  smoking  com- 
partment for  his  after-breakfast 


16  EDITH. 

cigar,  Jack  picked  an  acquaintance 
with  him,  making  some  small  re- 
mark on  the  scenery  without,  which 
led  to  more  pretentious  conversa- 
tion, which  finally  became  personal 
in  its  nature,  just  as  Sherwood  had 
meant  it  should. 

"Going  far  west,  Mr.  Sherwood?" 
the  old  gentleman  inquired,  the 
civility  of  a  fresh  cigar  from  the 
senior  having  been  followed  by  an 
exchange  of  cards,  the  pasteboard 
of  the  stranger  revealing  the  fact 
that  he  bore  the  name  of  Eichard 
White.  His  w^ife  frequently  ad- 
dressed him  simply  as  "Colonel," 
from  which  circumstance  Jack  con- 
cluded he  had  served  his  country  in 
that  capacity  at  some  period  of  his 
life. 

"To  California,"  Sherwood  made 
reply. 


A  STORY  OF  CHINATOWN.          17 

"Ah!  that  is  my  state  now;  lived 
there  going  on  forty -four  years ;  call 
myself  a  >49er,  you  know.  Was  only 
a  slip  of  a  boy  of  twenty  when  I 
landed  in  'Frisco  in  search  of  gold 
and  adventures.  'Spose  you  are  in 
for  your  health?"  critically  looking 
over  his  rather  sparely-built  com- 
panion. 

"No,  I  brought  both  of  my  lungs 
with  me." 

"Did,  eh?"  smiling,  but  giving 
Jack  a  look  of  wonder,  as  though  a 
young  man  with  a  pair  of  sound 
bellows  bound  California-ward  was 
a  rare  curiosity,  as  seldom  encoun- 
tered as  hen's  teeth. 

And  then  it  transpired,  in  the 
course  of  the  long  chat  between  the 
two  smokers  that  followed,  that  the 
colonel  and  his  wife  were  returning 
to  their  adopted  state  after  spend- 


18  EDITH. 

ing  the  summer  and  early  winter  in 
the  East,  trying-  to  find  old  friends 
and  relatives  who  had  been  left  be- 
hind them  nearly  half  a  century 
ago.  He  said  his  wife  had  not  been 
well  the  past  year;  said  it  in  such 
a  way  —  in  halting  sentences,  with 
restraint  and  a  hint  of  embarrass- 
ment —  as  gave  his  keen-witted 
hearer  the  impression  that  the  ill- 
ness from  which  the  sweet-visaged 
lady  had  suffered  was  that  chapter 
in  their  lives  which  had  left  her  so 
sad  and  broken. 

After  seeking  pleasure  and  rest 
on  the  shores  of  the  Atlantic,  they 
were  now  fleeing  from  the  rigors  of 
the  eastern  winter,  bound  for  the 
southern  section  of  the  state.  He 
would  not  return  to  their  old  home 
in  'Frisco  for  the  present;  old  scenes 
and  faces  would  not  improve  the 


A  STORY  OF  CHINATOWN.          19 

health  of  his  wife;  the  milder  cli- 
mate of  the  orange  belt  would  do 
both  of  them  good. 

Later,  Jack  was  presented  to  the 
dear  old  lady,  was  charmed  by  her 
kindly  manner,  the  tone  of  her  con- 
versation. When  she  learned  that 
Jack  was  alone  in  the  world — had 
neither  father  nor  mother — she  vis- 
ibly warmed  toward  the  heedless 
but  good-hearted  young  vagabond. 

Had  she  children  of  her  own  at 
home?  Sherwood  had  asked. 

A  daughter  had  been  given  to 
them,  she  told  him,  with  restraint 
in  her  manner,  but  she  had  been 
lost;  had  gone  out  of  their  lives  and 
left  them  terribly  bereft.  More 
than  that  he  did  not  learn,  for  the 
crusty  old  colonel  had  interrupted 
this  conversation  and  brusquely- 
even  sternly — directed  it  into  en- 


20  EDITH. 

tirely  different  channels.  And  the 
dear  old  lady  had  dropped  out  of 
the  discussion,  had  turned  her  sor- 
row-freighted eyes  and  features 
away  from  the  inquisitive  young 
man,  and  sadly,  contemplatively 
gazed  out  of  the  window — without, 
however,  seeing  anything  of  the 
grand  mountain  scenery  that  was 
flitting  past. 

Jack  had  been  dangerously  near 
forbidden  ground,  where  the  hus- 
band neither  entered  himself  nor 
allowed  the  approach  of  others. 


CHAPTER    II. 

In  the  course  of  time  the  journey 
was  completed,  and,  partly  through 
those  letters  that  told  "whom  it 
may  concern"  such  pleasant  things 
about  the  bearer,  but  mainly  as  a 
result  of  a  few  bright  articles  from 
the  pen  of  that  same  individual, 
Jack  had  secured  a  place  on  a  morn- 
ing daily,  and  on  this  evening  of 
January  25th  he  made  his  way 
through  the  old  Plaza  and  into  the 
heart  of  Chinatown. 

That  section  of  the  city  which 
had  been  turned  over  to  the  Ori- 
entals— a  comparatively  few  square 
blocks  in  area,  but  the  abode  of 
nearly  four  thousand  natives  of  the 
Empire — wTas  ablaze  with  lanterns, 
brilliant  overhead  with  the  vari- 

21 


22  EDITH. 

colored  lights  of  the  gay  and  unique- 
shaped  paper  globes.  The  triangu- 
lar silk  and  gold  dragon-flag  of  the 
wearers  of  the  cue,  floating  from  the 
mast-head  of  the  brilliantly  deco- 
rated joss-house;  the  colors  of  the 
various  societies,  or  "tongs,"  flutter- 
ing in  the  breeze  from  dozens  of 
staffs;  banners  of  all  sizes  and 
shapes,  bearing  pot-hooked  hiero- 
glyphics that  put  to  shame  the  most 
elaborate  efforts  of  our  own  court 
stenographers ;  good-luck  crowns 
and  ornaments  in  tinsel-work; 
paper  flowers,  blazing  candles,  and 
burning  tapers  of  pungent  punk- 
all  this  display  was  calculated  to 
make  the  scene  brilliant  and  ani- 
mated, to  mantle  the  squalor  of  the 
Chinese  quarter,  to  throw  a  glam- 
our over  the  picturesque  hovels 
that  jostled  and  squeezed  and 


A  STORY  OF  CHINATOWN.          23 

crowded  each  other  in  Chinatown. 

Underfoot  w^as  a  sea  of  mud.  As 
a  rule  California  mud  is  mostly 
dust;  but  following  the  spring 
showers,  Chinatown  could  boast  of 
real,  live,  genuine,  loud-smelling 
mud;  ankle-deep  and  as  soft  as 
underdone  mush. 

The  alley-like  streets  of  the  Town 
were  alive  with  life;  pig-tailed 
Orientals,  with  here  and  there 
a  breech  evS-wearing  female,  good 
naturedly  jostled  each  other  on  the 
narrow  walks  as  they  flitted  from 
one  tiny  shop  to  another. 

Doubtless  they  were  settling  up 
old  scores  of  the  past  twelve- 
months' accumulation,  as  all  good 
Orientals  must  do  on  the  New  Year, 
if  they  would  be  recognized  in  good 
"society"  of  Chinatown.  By  the 
end  of  the  week  of  festivity  the 


24  EDITH. 

honest  yellow  man  could  look  the 
world  in  the  face,  declare  truthfully 
that  he  owed  no  man  a  dollar  (or  a 
red  cent,  either,  for  that  matter), 
and  realize  that  what  wealth  still 
remained  in  the  toe  of  the  old  sock 
was  all  his  own.  He  could  face  the 
coming  year  with  a  clear  conscience 
and  out  of  debt,  even  though  his 
purse  might  be  light.  Ah !  a  splen- 
did practice;  one  that  our  own  debt- 
contracting,  slow-paying  people 
might  emulate  with  profit  to  their 
trusting  neighbors  and  credit  to 
themselves. 

Jack's  ears  were  assailed  with 
the  din  of  the  loud-voiced  explo- 
sives, bunches  of  Chinese  fire-crack- 
ers that  were  "going  off"  at  nearly 
every  door-step.  Over  yonder  the 
"melody"  of  the  orchestra  at  the 
Chinese  theatre  tortured  the  sensi- 


A  STORY  OF  CHINATOWN.         25 

tive  ear-drums  of  the  sojourners 
in  the  Town,  and  illustrated  how 
wholly  music  is  a  question  of  taste 
and  cultivation.  This  hideous,  dis- 
cordant racket  (a  cross  between  the 
sounds  evolved  from  a  Scotch  bag- 
pipe and  all  the  combined  audible 
horrors  one  encountered  on  "Mid- 
way" at  the  World's  Fair)  was 
melody,  with  a  big  "M,"  to  the  ears 
of  the  enchanted  natives. 

Much  that  was  new  and  interest- 
ing the  Easterner  encountered  in 
his  rambles  about  the  Town — its 
quaint  little  shops  and  markets, 
the  strange  ways  of  its  people,  the 
opium-joints,  joss-house,  traders, 
fakirs,  and  the  small,  rat-hole 
abodes  of  all  these  people,  who  were 
crowded  into  niches  in  the  wall  like 
sardines  in  their  box. 

About    eleven    o'clock    he   faced 


26  EDITH. 

city-ward ;  he  had  gathered  material 
and  inspiration  enough  for  his 
story,  and  turned  into  Alameda 
Street.  On  either  side  of  the  thor- 
oughfare were  two  rows  of  windows 
in  the  long  line  of  low  structures 
that  abutted  close  to  the  walk,  and 
from  each  casement  light  was 
streaming  upon  the  darkness  with- 
out. 

"Here  is  a  part  of  the  show  that 
I  have  missed,"  mused  Sherwood, 
leisurely  joining  the  throngs  of  men 
who  were  idly  strolling  on  the 
walks.  "Wonder  what  it  is?" 

Not  long  was  he  kept  in  doubt  as 
to  the  purpose  of  that  double  row  of 
box-like  stalls.  Up  and  down  the 
street  he  paced  and  gazed  into  the 
open  windows,  inspecting  the  goods 
that  were  offered  for  sale;  at  first 
shrinkingly,  with  shame.  But  the 


A  STORY  OF  CHINATOWN.          27 

shock  that  this  strange  spectacle 
had  produced  gradually  wore  away, 
though  the  honest  indignation  of 
the  young  man  would  not  so  easily 
be  subdued.  Within  those  apart- 
ments, presented  for  inspection  like 
so  much  produce,  live-stock,  dry- 
goods,  or  other  merchandise  com- 
mon in  the  open  marts  of  the  com- 
mercial world,  where  human  chat- 
tels— young  women,  white  slaves  of 
men's  passion. 

Attired  in  gaudy  raiment,  some 
with  the  abbreviated  skirts  and  cor- 
respondingly liberal  exhibition  of 
hose  seen  elsewhere  only  on  the 
stage;  others  with  an  exposure  of 
the  upper  portion  of  the  form,  en- 
countered most  frequently  on  "full- 
dress"  occasions  in  polite  society; 
some  few  modestly  clothed.  Some 
faces  were  bright  and  fresh  and 


28  EDITH. 

pretty;  others  were  jaded  and  faded 
and  worn,  despite  the  liberal  use 
of  all  the  artificial  beautifiers  the 
dressing-case  afforded. 

Many  of  the  inmates  had  sur- 
rounded themselves  with  furniture 
and  fixtures  calculated  to  give  the 
rooms  an  appearance  of  luxury — 
tawdry  bits  of  finery  created  by 
feminine  hands;  flashy,  highly- 
colored  prints  of  a  striking  style; 
and  little  touches  here  and  there 
that  made  the  rooms  bright  and 
cheery — the  inmates  appearing,  by 
contrast,  all  the  more  pitifully,  woe- 
fully, cruelly  miserable.  Less  for- 
tunate sisters  of  woe  sat  in  their 
cheerless  apartment,  a  lamp,  a 
chair,  a  stand,  constituting  the  sum- 
total  of  their  belongings. 

Some  of  the  human  chattels  as- 
sumed a  gay  and  careless  bearing; 


A  STORY  OF  CHINATOWN.          29 

sang  snatches  of  merry  ditties,  but 
with  neither  mirth  nor  joy  in  the 
hard  tones  of  the  tuneful  voices; 
others  silently  sat  upon  the  auction- 
block  awaiting  the  coming  of  bid- 
ders, perhaps  in  shame,  perhaps 
with  anguish  and  in  hunger,  with 
fear  and  hope. 

Sometimes  a  bird,  a  cat,  or  a 
poodle  shared  the  homes  of  these 
slaves  of  society — the  only  living 
beings  upon  which  they  could  lavish 
the  affections  of  their  loveless  lives. 
Every  stall  presented  different 
types  and  grades  of  beauty;  differ- 
ent conditions,  surroundings,  and 
suggestions:  yet  all  the  inmates 
were  bent  upon  the  same  quest;  all 
were  for  sale,  all  sought  purchasers. 

All  this  was  upon  a  public  street 
of  a  modern  city  of  civilized  Amer- 
ica. All  this  was  openly,  glaringly 


30  EDITH. 

exposed  to  the  gaze  —  yea,  com- 
manded and  demanded  publicity— 
of  any  and  all  who  might  pass 
by;  the  human  chattels  could  be 
touched  by  the  hand  of  the  pedes- 
trian; his  or  her  eyes  could  not 
escape  the  sad  and  shocking  and 
shameful  sight. 

A  row  of  cages,  a  hundred  more 
or  less,  each  imprisoning  a  human 
captive,  shut  out  from  the  rest  of 
the  world,  but  free  to  lure  within 
those  who  were  without.  A  hun- 
dred spider's  webs,  more  or  less, 
and  a  hundred  spiders  inviting  the 
fly  that  they  would  devour  to  come 
into  their  parlors.  Only,  in  this 
case,  the  spiders  themselves  had 
once  been  the  flies  that  had  fallen 
into  the  meshes  of  male  plunderers; 
and  then,  when  man  had  despoiled 
them  of  purity,  virtue,  chastity,  he 


A  STORY  OF  CHINATOWN.          31 

and  his  sisters  had  driven  them  out 
of  society,  out  of  homes,  out  of 
human  affections,  and  into  a  worse 
wilderness  than  the  jungles  of 
Darkest  Africa — a  black,  hopeless, 
loveless,  living  hell. 

Somebody's  daughters,  some- 
body's sisters,  and  yet  exposed  to 
view  on  public  sale;  subjected  to 
the  brutal  jests  and  jeers  of  coarse 
men,  and  the  scornful  contempt  of 
those  who  consider  themselves  their 
betters,  who  by  accident  or  through 
ignorance  of  the  character  of  the 
locality  are  throwrn  in  their  path, 
but  who  lift  not  so  much  as  a  finger 
to  free  these  poor,  foolish,  unhappy, 
sinning,  and  sinned-against  sisters 
of  humanity. 


CHAPTEE    III. 

Sherwood  was  not  at  all  inclined 
to  be  a  prudish  man.  He  had  been 
thrown  among,  and  had  lived  with, 
all  manner  and  kind  of  men  and 
women;  he  knew  life  and  its  many- 
sided  phases;  knew  how  the  shady 
half  of  the  world  lived;  that  there 
was  much  blackness  and  rottenness 
and  foulness  among  the  dregs  of 
society.  But  nothing  quite  like 
this  had  he  ever  seen  before.  In 
the  East  the  cloak  of  decency,  if 
not  possessed,  is  at  least  assumed. 
Those  who  would  shut  their  eyes 
upon  the  great  social  evil  are  priv- 
ileged to  do  so.  Human  chattels 
are  not  forced  upon  their  notice; 
they  are  not  offered  for  sale  in  pub- 

32 


A  STORY  OF  CHINATOWN.          33 

lie  market,  but  rather  seek  seclu- 
sion and  darkness  and  secrecy. 

"Shades  of  Parkhurst!"  mut- 
tered the  young  man.  "And  they 
tell  me  the  churches  are  still  send- 
ing out  missionaries  to  foreign 
lands  to  convert  the  savages.  God 
have  mercy  on  the  female  heathen 
if  this  is  a  result  of  our  civilizing 
influences.  I  wonder  if  the  author- 
ities recognize  this  flagrant  wrong, 
or  merely  shut  their  eyes  to  it." 

Hardly  had  the  thought  shaped 
itself  in  his  mind  when  he  heard  a 
voice  at  his  elbow  commanding, 
"Don't  stand  in  front  of  the  stalls, 
sir;  move  on." 

It  was  a  blue-coated  officer  of  the 
law,  wearing  his  badge  of  authority, 
and  exercising  his  protective  power 
in  behalf  of  the  girl-chattels  within 
those  gaudily  decorated  rooms. 


34  EDITH. 

Sherwood  encountered  a  middle- 
aged  man  of  decent  appearance, 
and  waylaid  him  for  further  infor- 
mation on  this  social  puzzle.  "How 
long  has  this  sort  of  thing  existed?" 
he  asked. 

"What,  Chinatown?" 

"No,  no;  this  hell's  row  here." 

"Oh,  that!  Well,  I  don't  know; 
I  have  lived  here  twenty  years,  and 
it  was  flourishing  in  my  early  days 
— always,  I  guess." 

"And  no  one  tries  to  suppress  it?" 

"Try?— what  for?  They  couldn't 
do  it  if  they  wanted  to,  and  I  guess 
no  one  cares  to  try.  What  is  the 
use?  Men  will  have  this  sort  of 
thing,  you  know." 

"Yes,  but  no  need  to  flaunt  it  in 
the  very  eyes  of  all  the  world,  where 
children,  young  boys,  and  innocent 


A  STORY  OF  CHINATOWN.          35 

women  may  be  thrown  into  contact 
with  it." 

"For  that  matter,  the  boys  are  not 
supposed  to  be  here  unless  their 
parents  are  with  them;  which  is  not 
at  all  likely,  for,  though  the  dads 
may  come  down  on  the  row  occa- 
sionally to  see  what  is  going  on,  you 
can  rest  assured  they  leave  the  kids 
at  home.  Of  course  the  boys  do 
show  up;  you  see  them  here  to- 
night; but  that  is  the  fault  of  the 
police,  not  of  the  girls  in  there.  As 
for  the  older  innocents,  if  they  don't 
like  the  looks  of  things,  they  have  a 
pair  of  legs  that  can  carry  them  into 
purer  atmosphere." 

Another  blue-coat  instructed  the 
couple  to  "move  on,"  and  Sherwood 
started  down  the  walk,  again 
headed  city-ward;  it  was  high  time 
he  was  getting  up  his  copy.  His 


36  EDITH. 

eyes  were  fixed  upon  that  line  of 
faces  framed  in  by  the  long  row  of 
windows.  Suddenly  his  attention 
was  arrested  by  the  face  and  form 
of  a  girl  who  had  hitherto  been 
engaged  and  not  on  public  exhibi- 
tion. 

She  occupied  apartments  No.  97. 
They  were  tastefully  fitted  up  with 
really  bright  and  attractive  dra- 
peries and  upholstery,  with  light 
and  heat  and  some  considerable 
degree  of  comfort  not  noted  in  the 
majority  of  the  stalls.  Within  this 
cosy  room  a  young  girl  sat  tilted  far 
back  in  a  comfortable  rocking-chair 
that  stood  in  the  middle  of  the  floor. 
The  bright  light  on  the  side  wall 
flooded  the  fair  features  and  grace- 
ful form,  and  something  in  that 
sweet  face  (so  painfully  out  of  place 
in  those  surroundings)  puzzled  the 


A  STOEY  OF  CHINATOWN.          37 

young  man,  strongly  impressed  him 
that  somewhere  and  at  some  time 
he  had  seen  it  before. 

She  sat  immovable  as  a  statue; 
her  hands  were  folded  behind,  and 
supported 'the  fair  head;  the  soft 
silken  material  of  her  becoming 
costume  fell  to  her  elbows  and  re- 
vealed the  marble- white  flesh  of  the 
plump  arms.  Her  red-brown  hair, 
as  fine  as  spun  gold,  was  parted  in 
the  middle  and  rippled  all  over  the 
shapely  crown  until  at  last  confined 
in  a  rebellious  mass  behind.  The 
features  were  clear-cut  and  regular, 
beautiful  without  a  doubt;  no  sign 
of  paint  or  powder  marred  the 
charm  of  the  clear,  milky  complex- 
ion of  face  and  rounded  throat. 
The  perfectly-formed  mouth  bore 
the  faintest  suspicion  of  a  smile, 
with  just  a  little  shade  of  sadness 

l/^ 


38  EDITH. 

and  regret  and  sorrow,  perhaps, 
that  touched  the  heart  of  the  ob- 
servant watcher. 

The  soft  brown  eyes  were  fixed 
upon  the  ceiling  above  her;  but  they 
saw  nothing;  her  thoughts  were 
undoubtedly  far  away  —  perhaps 
with  the  mother  who  had  tenderly 
nurtured  the  little  rosebud  of  a 
baby  so  many  years  ago;  who  had 
watched  over  and  loved  her  off- 
spring, as  only  a  mother  can,  until 
that  terrible  day  when  someone, 
and  something,  had  robbed  her  of  a 
daughter.  Perhaps  they  were  with 
the  pleasant  home  that  she  had  left 
behind  her  on  that  momentous  day; 
with  the  friends  who  surrounded 
her;  with  the  pure,  holy,  and  inno- 
cent thoughts  and  hopes  and  aspir- 
ations of  her  maidenhood.  Perhaps 
her  thoughts  were  of  these  things, 


A  STORY  OF  CHINATOWN.         39 

at  that  moment,  when  her  present 
life  and  surroundings  were  cer- 
tainly far  removed  from  the  mind 
of  that  sweet-faced  girl  who,  all 
unconsciously,  presented  a  most 
enchanting  vision  to  the  eyes  of  the 
young  man  in  the  darkness  without. 

And  where  and  when  had  he  seen 
that  face  before,  or  one  that  so 
strikingly  reminded  him  of  it?  He 
could  not  remember,  he  racked  his 
memory  in  vain  for  a  clue  that 
would  put  him  on  the  right  track. 

It  was  not  long  that  he  stood 
there,  only  a  few  seconds.  Now  his 
attention  was  distracted  by  the 
voice  of  a  man  —  a  familiar  voice, 
one  that  he  had  heard  before  some- 
where —  sternly  storming  at  the 
blunder  or  carelessness  of  some 
second  party. 

"Confound  him!    I  told  him  to  be 


40  EDITH. 

sure  and  meet  us  at  that  infernal 
Chinese  theatre  at  eleven  o'clock. 
Now  we  shall  have  to  run  over  to 
First  Street  and  catch  a  late  car. 
You  will  have  to  hurry,  wife,  or  we 
shall  be  obliged  to  hoof  it  the  entire 
distance.  Say,  isn't  that  his  team 
coming  down  the  street?  I  believe 
it  is — I  will  hail  the  vagabond.  Hi, 
there!"  and  he  raised  his  voice  and 
lustily  shouted  at  a  hack-driver 
who  was  impatiently  urging  his 
horses  over  the  rough,  muddy 
street,  well  knowing  that  he  was 
late  and  the  kind  of  greeting  he  was 
likely  to  receive  from  his  crabby 
customer. 

The  gentleman  and  his  wife 
stopped  on  the  walk  directly  in 
front  of  No.  97.  Hitherto  the  eyes 
of  the  couple  had  been  fixed  upon 
the  street,  anxiously  on  the  look-out 


A  STOEY  OF  CHINATOWN.          41 

for  the  tardy  hackman.  Now,  while 
they  waited  for  him  to  pull  up  at 
the  walk's  edge,  the  old  gentleman 
turned  toward  the  row  of  slave-pens 
and  curiously  scanned  their  in- 
mates. From  stall  to  stall  his 
glance  flitted  until  at  last  his  gaze 
rested  upon  the  window  of  No.  97. 
He  shifted  his  position  slightly,  to 
better  see  its  occupant;  he  looked 
in  upon  the  fair  vision  that  had 
aroused  the  interest  of  Sherwood. 

Swiftly  the  careless  curiosity,  the 
scornful  contempt,  that  had  been 
depicted  upon  the  cold,  stern,  feat- 
ures of  that  man  from  the  upper 
walks  of  life,  so  far  removed  from 
the  lives  of  these  social  outcasts, 
gave  place  to  other  and  different 
emotions.  The  strong  man  started 
as  though  he  had  heard  his  own 
death-knell;  he  trembled  in  every 


42  EDITH. 

limb  as  one  stricken  with  palsy; 
and  the  features  of  the  hard,  firm 
face  became  pallid,  drawn,  distorted 
with  sorrow,  anguish,  horror.  A 
half-suppressed  startled  exclama- 
tion escaped  from  his  parted  lips  as, 
with  wide-extended  eyes,  he  gazed 
at  the  fair  dreamer. 

"What  is  it,  Kichard?"  the  calm, 
sweet  voice  of  the  woman  asked. 

The  question,  the  light  touch  of 
the  lady's  hand  upon  his  arm, 
brought  him  back  to  his  senses. 
With  an  effort  he  regained  his  self- 
possession,  and  hastily  turning  to- 
ward his  companion,  wholly  ignor- 
ing her  question,  he  nervously 
urged  her  to  take  the  carriage  now 
in  readiness  for  them,  attempted  to 
peremptorily  force  her  attention 
away  from  the  long  row  of  human 
chattel-shops,  and,  above  all,  lead 


A  8 TOEY  OF  CHINATOWN.          43 

her  from  the  vicinity  of  that  fateful 
No.  97. 

"Let  us  hasten,  wife;  it  grows 
late,  and  this  is  no  place  for  us.  It's 
nothing,  dear;  step  into  the  car- 
riage, and  John  will  have  us  in  our 
own  snug  quarters  in  no  time." 

But  she  had  noted  his  strange 
bearing,  so  unusual  in  men  of  his 
stamp;  and  the  startled  exclama- 
tion, the  strained  attention  he  had 
given  to  the  window  of  No.  97,  his 
peculiar  behavior  in  urging  her 
departure,  the  tones  of  his  voice — 
sometimes  pleading  and  then  again 
commanding — further  aroused  her 
curiosity,  wonder,  dread.  What 
could  have  affected  him  so  strongly? 
She  would  see  for  herself;  she 
would  turn  back  to  those  brilliantly- 
lighted  little  shops  that  she  had 
passed  a  few  moments  before  with- 


44  EDITH. 

out  giving  them  so  much  as  a  glance 
or  a  thought. 

"Don't  look  there;  for  God's  sake 
come  away  from  that  window!" 

It  was  the  terrible,  agonized  cry 
of  a  heart  tortured  with  pain,  that 
plea  of  the  outwardly  cold  and  stern 
husband  to  his  wife,  that  effort  of 
the  strong  man  to  spare  his  weaker 
companion  the  shock  that  had 
wrung  from  the  deepest  depths  of 
his  nature  that  first  startled  excla- 
mation. 

It  was  too  late.  T«he  lady  shook 
herself  free  from  the  restraining 
grasp  of  her  husband,  and  she  too 
stepped  up  beside  the  wondering 
Sherwood,  peered  into  the  cosy, 
bright  interior  of  No.  97,  gazed 
upon  the  face  of  its  fair  occupant 
for  an  instant — and  then  the  air 


A  STORY  OF  CHINATOWN.          45 

was  rent  with  the  agonized  cry  of  a 
bleeding,  broken  heart. 

"Edith!" 

Just  one  little  word,  but,  oh! 
what  a  world  of  sorrow,  what 
depths  of  woe,  what  hell-born  tor- 
ture, what  mournful  yearning  the 
tones  of  that  heartbreaking  voice 
conveyed  to  those  who  heard  the 
exclamation! 

She  swayed,  tottered  feebly,  and 
the  next  moment  Sherwood  held 
the  unconscious  form  of  Mrs.  White 
in  his  arms.  The  light  from  the 
window  of  No.  97  streamed  over  the 
sweet,  sad  features  and  soft  snowy 
hair  of  the  face  that  had  charmed 
him  during  the  long  journey  across 
the  continent,  that  had  reminded 
him  of  his  dead  mother,  and  had 
aroused  in  his  breast  pity  and  sym- 
pathy for  the  greaJjjorrQjythat  had 


0*  TMB  "\ 

UNIVERSITY 


46  EDITH. 

prematurely  withered  the  beauty 
she  possessed  and  aged  her  before 
her  time. 

He  knew  now  the  great  burden 
that  was  upon  her  heart ;  knew  now 
why  that  fair  dreamer  in  No.  97 
had  arrested  his  attention,  why  the 
beautiful  features  had  seemed  so 
familiar — in  a  flash  all  came  to  him. 
Then  the  tremulous  voice  of  the 
husband  and  father  excitedly  com- 
manded him  to  lend  assistance  in 
getting  the  unconscious  woman  into 
the  carriage.  Between  them,  with 
John's  aid,  they  placed  her  upon  the 
seat,  the  pallid  face  was  tenderly 
pillowed  upon  the  shoulder  of  the 
husband,  and  then  —  iron  in  the 
man's  heart  once  more  coming  to 
the  surface  —  he  commanded  the 
coachman  to  drive  home. 

It  all  took  place  so  suddenly — 


A  STOBY  OF  CHINATOWN.         47 

the  interval  between  the  utterance 
of  that  agonized  wail  by  the  pallid 
lips  of  the  woman  and  the  banging 
of  the  hack  door  by  the  nervous 
driver  was  so  short  —  that  when 
Jack  once  more  turned  toward  No. 
97  its  door  had  just  been  thrown 
open,  and  the  young  girl  stood  upon 
the  threshold,  a  look  of  shame  and 
fear  and  agony  in  the  widely  dilated 
eyes.  Her  startled  gaze  swiftly 
traveled  up  and  down  the  walk, 
then  sought  the  street  for  some 
explanation  of  that  mother's  cry 
which  had  aroused  her  from  her 
revery  and  stirred  in  her  breast 
only  God  knows  what  emotions. 

She  caught  sight  of  the  fast- 
disappearing  carriage,  and  hungrily 
watched  it  with  strained,  yearning 
eyes  until  it  was  swallowed  up  in 
the  blackness  beyond  the  pale  of 


48  EDITH. 

the  electric  light  that  swung  over 
the  street  some  rods  distant.  Then 
she  slowly  turned  away,  the  pretty, 
fluffy  head  bent  low,  and  a  great 
sigh  swelling  up  from  the  heaving 
chest.  The  door  was  closed,  the 
window  curtain  drawn;  to  all  the 
world  the  inmate  of  No.  97  was  "riot 
at  home"  for  the  remainder  of  that, 
night.  But  Jack  could  see  the 
shadow  of  the  girl  behind  the  flimsy 
wall  of  muslin,  restlessly  pacing  up 
and  down  the  narrow  confines  of 
her  cage-like  abode. 

He  turned  away;  his  work  would 
not  wait;  it  must  be  done.  When 
he  reached  the  end  of  the  row,  he 
looked  back  to  catch  another 
glimpse  of  that  curtained  window 
of  No.  97. 

"Ah!"  he  muttered  to  himself, 
"Chinatown  and— Hell.  'Twould 


A  STOET  OF  CHINATOWN.          49 

make  a  good  head-line  for  niy  story 
in  the  morning  —  an  appropriate 
one,  with  more  truth  than  poetry  in 
it;  but  I  suppose  the  old  man  would 
consider  it  too  striking,  and  kill  it 
with  a  slash  of  his  blue  pencil." 


CHAPTER    IV. 

Jack's  work  that  memorable 
night  did  not  disappoint  his  su- 
perior, the  editor  of  the  morning 
sheet;  but  not  a  tithe  of  what  he 
had  seen  and  heard  and  learned 
during  the  short  hours  he  had 
strolled  about  Chinatown  reached 
the  eyes  or  the  understanding  of 
the  thousands  who  read  his  article 
the  next  morning.  There  are  things 
and  happenings  every  hour  of  every 
day  of  the  year — scores  of  them — 
that  are  too  good,  or,  more  properly 
speaking,  too  bad,  for  the  public 
prints.  The  genteel  and  cultured 
sensibilities  of  the  Christian  com- 
munities must  not  be  shocked  by 
the  unseemly  scribblings  of  journal  - 

50 


A  STOET  OF  CHINATOWN.          51 

istic  strollers.  The  newspaper  pre- 
sents only  what  its  readers  demand, 
and  the  "better  half  of  society  does 
not  care  to  know  how  the  other  half 
exists.  It  would  be  an  uncomfort- 
able knowledge;  might  trouble  the 
conscience  of  some,  entail  labor  up- 
on others,  and  mayhap  make  de- 
mands upon  the  purses  of  donation- 
givers. 

So  Jack  preserved  a  discreet 
silence  as  to  the  conditions  encoun- 
tered upon  Hell's  Kow,  and,  of 
course,  the  startling  episode  of  the 
evening  was  not  for  public  ears;  it 
concerned  his  friends,  the  Whites, 
and,  if  for  no  other  reason,  he  would 
keep  his  discovery  of  the  identity  of 
the  fair  one  of  No.  97  to  himself. 

His  thoughts,  however,  were  con- 
stantly busied  with  the  dramatic 
scene  he  had  witnessed,  and  early 


52  EDITH. 

the  next  afternoon  his  steps  were 
bent  toward  Chinatown.  He  hoped 
he  might  in  some  way  be  thrown  in 
contact  with  that  sweet-faced  girl, 
partly  from  curiosity  to  know  the 
story  of  her  life,  but  more  strongly 
actuated  with  the  nobler  impulse  of 
lending  her  a  helping  hand,  of  lead- 
ing her  back  to  her  parents,  who 
mourned  for  her  as  one  who  was 
worse  than  dead. 

He  knew  that  the  mother's  heart, 
yearned  for  the  daughter  who  had 
come  into  her  life  late  in  years  and 
had  been  snatched  from  her  in  this 
terrible  fashion;  he  believed,  in 
spite  of  the  stern,  inflexible  exterior 
of  the  father,  that  he  had  displayed 
evidences  of  weakening,  and  would 
gladly  condone  the  errors  of  his 
offspring  if  she  sued  for,  and  strove 
to  merit,  forgiveness. 


A  STOBY  OF  CHINATOWN.          53 

With  a  beating  heart  Jack  made 
his  way  to  Alameda  Street  and 
slowly  walked  down  the  row  of 
stalls.  He  gave  no  heed  to  the 
faces  that  were  turned  toward  him 
from  every  open  casement,  but 
made  direct  for  No.  97.  He  experi- 
enced a  sense  of  great  disappoint- 
ment as  he  came  in  sight  of  the 
window  that  interested  him.  Its 
curtain  was  drawn ;  the  inmate  was 
"not  at  home."  His  gaze  rested 
upon  the  door;  he  wondered  if  he 
dared  to  apply  for  admittance  and, 
on  one  pretext  or  another,  demand 
an  audience  with  the  girl.  A  plac- 
ard was  tacked  up  on  the  door;  he 
drew  near  and,  with  all  the  rest  of 
the  Alameda  Street  world,  learned 
that  No.  97  was 


54  EDITH. 


*  * 

*  * 

FOR  RENT.       J 
J        APPLY  AT        * 

*  MCMURPHY'S  SALOON.  * 

*  * 

*  * 
************************* 

She  had  gone. 

For  a  long  time  he  stupidly  stood 
before  the  bit  of  printed  cardboard, 
pondering  upon  the  meaning  of  it 
all.  Whither  had  she  fled?  Had 
the  father  and  mother  sought  her 
out?  had  she  returned  to  them  at 
last?  He  hoped  so,  and  finally  con- 
cluded that  he  must  be  making  a 
spectacle  of  himself  standing  there 
before  the  door  of  the  vacant  apart- 
ments. He  would  do  better  than 
that;  he  would  call  at  McMurphy's 
and  see  if  he  could  gain  any  infor- 
mation. 

The  mean-visaged  bartender  inso- 


A  STOUT  OF  CHINATOWN.          55 

lently  leered  at  the  young  man  when 
he  made  his  inquiries,  told  him  they 
did  not  maintain  an  information 
bureau  for  the  benefit  of  the  tenants 
and  their  curious  friends,  and  inti- 
mated that  they  had  been  bothered 
quite  enough  by  "blokes"  who  had 
called  to  inquire  about  No.  97.  If 
he  wanted  to  rent  that  place  they 
could  accommodate  him,  otherwise 
he  had  better  go  to  a  warmer  cli- 
mate with  his  d—  -  questions. 

And  so  Jack  left  McMurphy's  and 
the  ugly  bartender  no  wiser  than  he 
had  entered,  save  for  the  knowledge 
that  others  had  been  there  ahead  of 
him  seeking  light  as  to  the  where- 
abouts of  the  missing  girl. 

When  Sherwood  reached  the 
office,  later  in  the  afternoon,  he 
found  upon  his  desk  two  letters 


56  EDITH. 

bearing  the  city  postmark.  One 
was  from  Colonel  White. 

"I  recognized  you  last  night,"  it 
ran,  "but  that  was  neither  the  time 
nor  the  place  for  friendly  greetings. 
I  lacked  even  the  opportunity  to 
thank  you  for  the  assistance  you 
rendered  me  under  the  trying  cir- 
cumstances of  that  unexpected 
meeting.  If  you  will  call  at  your 
earliest  convenience,  I  shall  appre- 
ciate the  kindness;  I  need  your 
assistance  in  a  delicate  matter  of 
business,  and  as  my  wife  is  seriously 
ill  I  cannot  well  leave  her.  Kindly 
consider  the  receipt  and  contents  of 
this  letter  a  matter  wholly  between 
ourselves,  and  make  no  reference  to 
same  in  the  hearing  of  Mrs.  White." 

The  other,  strangely  enough,  bore 
on  the  same  subject,  the  theme 
uppermost  in  the  mind  of  the  young 


A  STORY  OF  CHINATOWN.          57 

man,    and    was    written    by    Mrs. 
White  herself. 

"My  husband  tells  me  that  you 
were  in  Chinatown  last  night,  and, 
in  fact,  that  it  was  through  your 
prompt  action  that  I  was  saved 
from  an  ugly  fall.  Will  you  kindly 
call  upon  me  this  afternoon  that  I 
may  thank  you  in  person  for  the 
service  you  rendered  and  discuss 
other  matters  that  weigh  heavy  on 
my  heart?  I  am  too  weak  and  ill 
to  leave  my  bed,  and  presume  on 
your  good  nature  and  the  pri  vileges 
of  an  invalid  in  hoping  for  a  com- 
pliance with  my  earnest  desire  to 
see  you  with  all  possible  dispatch. 
As  this  matter  is  one  that  is  very 
distasteful  and  annoying  to  Mr. 
WThite,  will  you,  while  in  his  pres- 
ence, kindly  refrain  from  mention- 
ing that  I  have  written  you?" 


68  EDITH. 

Jack  smiled  grimly  at  the  latter 
part  of  this  otherwise  sad  epistle, 
tallying,  as  it  did,  with  the  wind-up 
of  the  husband's  communication. 
He  believed  he  understood  the  sit- 
uation; he  remembered  the  per- 
emptory and  stern  interruption  of 
the  conversation  between  himself 
and  the  dear  old  lady  when,  on  the 
trip  out,  she  had  spoken  of  the  child 
that  was  lost  to  them.  Doubtless 
the  subject  was  a  forbidden  one; 
the  stern  old  father's  heart  had 
been  embittered  and  hardened  by 
the  sorrow  that  the  child  had 
brought  upon  them.  Now  he 
found  that  his  feelings  were  not 
of  adamant;  he  yearned  for  the 
wayward  daughter,  and  would  fain 
extend  her  a  helping  hand,  but  his 
man's  pride  would  not  allow  that 
dear  suffering  helpmeet  to  share  his 


A  STOEY  OF  CHINATOWN.          59 

hopes  and  longings,  for  fear  that 
they  might  be  in  vain;  that  his 
efforts  Avould  be  fruitless,  his  prof- 
fered amenity  rejected.  On  the 
other  hand,  she,  striving  to  be  loyal 
to  her  husband,  but  unable  to  turn 
from  that  loved  though  fallen 
daughter  —  unable  to  stifle  the 
motherhood  within  her  breast — 
desired  secretly  to  pursue  her  inves- 
tigations and  search  for  the  tenant 
of  No.  97. 

Sherwood  lost  no  time  in  present- 
ing himself  at  the  home  of  his 
friends.  The  old  colonel  received 
him  cordially,  though  he  could  not 
hide  the  evidences  of  embarrass- 
ment born  of  the  relations  now 
existing  between  the  two  men.  The 
visage  of  the  host  bore  marks  of 
care  and  sorrow;  he  seemed  to  have 
grown  old  and  bent  since  the  night 


60  EDITH. 

before.  He  led  the  way  to  the 
library,  seated  his  guest  in  a  com- 
fortable lounging-chair,  shoved  a 
box  of  cigars  within  his  easy  reach, 
then  restlessly  paced  up  and  down 
the  length  of  the  hearth-rug,  while 
he  addressed  his  visitor. 

"It  is  not  necessary  for  me  to  tell 
you  who  that  girl  is — the  relation 
she  bears  us;  doubtless  you  have 
already  guessed  that  she  is  our 
daughter.  She  left  us,  as  her 
mother  told  you  on  the  cars,  a  little 
over  a  year  ago.  It  is  the  same  old 
story — you  have  heard  it  a  hundred 
times,  undoubtedly  have  encoun- 
tered scores  of  similar  cases  in  your 
quest  of  those  things  that  editors 
deem  fit  food  for  the  readers  of  their 
papers.  An  only  child,  an  indulged 
and  petted  daughter,  she  came  into 
our  lives  when  we  were  already  on 


A  STORY  OF  CHINATOWN.          61 

the  shady  side  of  our  stay  on  earth, 
and  she  knew  no  desire  or  caprice 
that  was  not  gratified.  Yet  she 
was  not  a  spoiled  child;  our  Edith 
was  as  sweet  and  wholesome  and 
noble  a  girl  as  God  Almighty  ever- 
blessed  a  father  or  mother  with ;  but 
impulsive,  perhaps  a  bit  strong- 
headed,  and  not  as  carefully 
guarded  as  she  might  have  been 
from  the  dangers  that  we  little  sus- 
pected hedged  in  young  women  of 
her  station  in  life.  We  knew  that 
the  daughters  of  the  humble  were 
in  constant  danger;  we  never 
dreamed  that  the  man  lived  who 
would  dare  to  tempt  our  child.  But 
he  came,  nevertheless;  came  in  the 
guise  of  a  gentleman,  a  human 
vampire;  and  the  greatest  sorrow 
of  my  life — the  regret  that  is  more 
bitter  than  that  resulting  from  the 


62  EDITH. 

fall  of  our  darling — is  that  I  lacked 
the  manhood,  the  moral  courage,  to 
crush  the  poisonous,  hell-born  life 
from  the  black  heart  of  that  smooth- 
voiced,  insinuating  villain." 

The  face  of  the  self -tortured  man 
was  distorted  with  awful  wrath  and 
hate;  the  clenched  hands  shook 
with  the  agitation  that  racked  his 
frame;  the  eyes  were  ablaze;  and 
for  a  long  time  only  the  labored, 
heavy  breathing  of  the  father  broke 
the  silence. 

"But  I  let  him  escape;  I  turned 
my  back  on  him  and  his  victim; 
both  passed  out  of  our  lives  —  I 
thought  forever.  I  supposed  that 
they  were  together,  that  perhaps 
she  was  making  the  most  of  her 
blasted  life  in  some  secluded  corner 
of  the  great  world,  that  he  had  at 
least  provided  her  with  a  home  and 


A  STOEY  OF  CHINATOWN.          63 

given  her  his  disgraceful  name.  I 
thought  that  no  love  was  left  in  my 
heart  for  that  daughter,  that  she 
was  as  wholly  lost  and  forgotten  as 
though  she  had  never  been  born  to 
us. 

"Last  night  I  learned  how  blind 
I  have  been  all  these  months,  how 
weak  the  will  is  against  those  emo- 
tions that  nature  has  planted  deep 
in  the  human  heart.  The  shock  of 
that  terrible  vision,  of  seeing  my 
own  flesh  and  blood  publicly  offered 
for  sale  in  that  human  slave-market, 
unmanned  me.  I  know  now  that 
she  is  alone  in  the  world,  that  she 
was  either  deserted  by  her  betrayer 
or  forsook  him  when  she  learned  the 
blackness  of  his  heart. 

"To-day  I  visited  her  rooms  and 
found  them  deserted,  the  place  for 
rent.  In  seeking  information  of 


64  EDITH. 

the  renting  agents,  in  my  anger  and 
excitement  I  nearly  came  to  blows 
with  the  insolent  cur  who  baffled 
my  efforts.  Then  I  realized  that  I 
was  not  a  fit  person  to  pursue  this 
investigation,  and  in  my  extremity 
I  thought  of  you,  and  presumed  on 
our  short  acquaintance  and  the 
knowledge  you  already  possessed  of 
the  case,  to  secure  your  assistance. 
Sherwood,  I  want  my  daughter- 
back  again.  Dead  or  alive,  soiled 
in  soul  and  body  though  she  may  be, 
I  want  her  as  I  have  wanted  noth- 
ing else  within  the  gift  of  God  or 
man." 

Oh!  the  pathos,  the  sadness,  the 
pitiful,  touching  yearning  of  that 
great,  iron-hearted  man  as  the  wall 
of  obstinate  disregard  and  indiffer- 
ence he  had  maintained  against  the 
child  of  his  affections  gave  way  in 


A  STORY  OF  CHINATOWN.          65 

the  heartbreaking  declaration!  He 
leaned  against  the  mantel  and 
rested  the  grizzled  head  on  the  cold, 
hard  marble,  regaining  the  compos- 
ure that  had  deserted  him. 

"I  do  not  know  what  thoughts 
and  suffering  torture  that  good 
mother;  in  this  matter  we  seem  to 
have  drifted  apart.  She  confides 
nothing  in  me;  I  have  studiously 
forced  her  to  silence.  She  is  pros- 
trated; I  fear  that  she  too  may  leave 
me — that  death  may  rob  me  of  a 
wife  as  that  hell-hound  stole  my 
child." 

Poor  old  Jack,  who  had  been 
furiously  consuming  his  host's 
cigars  during  the  trying  recital,  and 
struggling  in  vain  to  burn  his  own 
emotions  and  send  them  ceiling- 
ward  with  the  clouds  of  fragrant 
fumes,  now  aroused  himself  and 


66  EDITH. 

made  a  master  effort  in  behalf  of 
the  sweet-faced  old  lady  whose 
agent  he  must  also  be  in  this 
strange  case.  Without  a  word  he 
drew  the  mother's  touching  letter 
from  his  pocket,  smoothed  out  the 
closely  written,  tear-stained  sheet, 
and  silently  placed  it  in  the  hands 
of  the  husband. 

For  a  long  time  the  stern  old  man 
held  that  bit  of  paper  before  his 
eyes;  it  seemed  to  the  anxious  Jack 
that  he  might  have  read  it  ten  times 
over,  as  the  mantel  clock  slowly 
ticked  off  the  fleeting  moments. 
Still  the  eyes  of  the  husband  rested 
upon  the  words  of  the  mother  and 
wife;  but  at  last  Jack  knew  that 
they  saw  not  the  words  written 
there,  for  tears  had  gathered ;  they 
rolled  down  the  hard,  bronzed 
cheeks  that  had  been  strangers  to 


A  STORY  OF  CHINATOWN.          67 

showers  of  this  kind  for  many  a 
long  year  past.  They  splashed 
upon  the  letter  still  held  in  the 
father's  hand,  they  mingled  with 
the  blots  the  mother  had  made;  and 
as  the  tears  of  that  sorrowing 
couple  commingled  and  flowed  to- 
gether, so  at  last  their  hearts  were 
united  in  their  great  purpose  of 
seeking,  of  forgiving,  and  of  loving. 

"Come,  let  us  go  to  her,"  he  said 
at  last,  huskily;  and  Sherwood  fol- 
lowed to  the  chamber  above,  saw 
the  husband  stoop  down  and  ten- 
derly kiss  the  face  of  the  stricken 
woman,  heard  him  tell  her  that 
which  brought  gladness  and  hope 
and  new  life  to  the  sad  features. 

He  knew  that  he  had  done  well, 
and  departed  from  the  home  with 
the  consciousness  that  he  had  at 
least  left  its  inmates  happier  in 


68  EDITH. 

their  love  for  each  other,  more 
hopeful  and  brave.  For  himself, 
he  had  many  misgivings  as  to  the 
ultimate  success  of  the  quest  upon 
which  he  had  been  commissioned. 


CHAPTER    V. 

Again  Sherwood  visited  Mc- 
Murphy's  saloon,  and  this  time,  by 
the  judicious  use  of  a  bit  of  silver, 
he  was  more  civilly  received.  But 
no  news  of  the  tenant  of  No.  97 
could  be  gleaned  from  this  source. 
The  girl  had  moved  out,  turned  the 
key  over  to  them,  and  that  was  the 
last  they  had  seen  of  her.  Every 
quarter  of  the  city  where  he  thought 
she  would  be  likely  to  locate  or 
visit  was  carefully  but  vainly 
searched  in  the  days  that  followed. 
Jack  had  about  concluded  that  the 
girl  had  left  the  city,  though  he 
kept  his  eyes  open,  scanned  the 
faces  of  all  who  in  any  way  tallied 
with  the  appearance  of  the  missing 


70  EDITH. 

woman,  and  industriously,  patiently 
continued  his  prowlings  about  lodg- 
ing-places and  apartment-houses. 

Ten  days  had  rolled  around  since 
the  night  when  Jack's  assignment 
had  taken  him  into  Chinatown.'  He 
stood  idly  leaning  against  the  door- 
way leading  to  the  editorial  rooms 
of  his  paper,  smoking  his  afternoon 
cigar,  and  listlessly  watching  the 
throngs  that  were  streaming  past 
on  the  walks  beneath  him.  His 
glance  fell  upon  the  figure  of  a 
young  woman  who  deftly  threaded 
her  way  through  the  crowd  and 
rapidly  neared  the  spot  where  the 
journalist  lounged.  Her  grace,  the 
pleasing  contours  of  the  form,  re- 
vealed by  the  well-made,  becoming 
street  costume;  the  small  gloved 
hands;  the  poise  of  the  shapely 


A  STORY  OF  CHINATOWN.          71 

head — all  claimed  the  admiration 
of  the  young  man. 

Of  the  face  he  could  see  nothing, 
for  she  wore  a  thick  veil,  and  this 
circumstance  aroused  the  curiosity 
and  suspicion  of  the  idler.  As  he 
critically  studied  the  pretty  figure 
he  was  impressed  with  its  striking 
similarity  to  that  of  Edith  White. 
True,  he  had  followed  scores  of 
girls  whose  forms  had  been  equally 
like  that  of  the  girl  he  sought;  but 
they  had  not  hidden  their  faces 
from  their  neighbors  on  the  street, 
and  this  circumstance,  he  argued, 
was  in  his  favor. 

When  the  veiled  lady  reached  the 
office  building  she  suddenly  turned 
at  the  main  entrance  and  passed 
into  the  counting-rooms.  Before 
the  puzzled  man  could  make  up  his 
mind  what  course  he  had  better 


72  EDITH. 

pursue,  the  unknown  again  ap- 
peared upon  the  street  and  com- 
menced retracing  her  steps.  Jack 
was  between  two  fires;  he  wanted 
to  follow  her  and  learn  her  destina- 
tion and  abode;  and  it  was  quite  as 
important  to  ascertain  what  her 
business  had  been  in  the  newspaper 
office.  If  he  delayed  making  in- 
quiries within  he  would  be  unsuc- 
cessful; the  clerk  would  forget  this 
particular  caller  among  the  many 
who  were  coming  and  going;  per- 
haps he  might  learn  all  he  wished 
to  know  on  the  inside.  He  turned 
his  back  on  the  rapidly-disappear- 
ing woman,  entered  the  office,  and 
sought  the  want-ad,  clerk  as  being 
the  most  likely  person  with  whom 
the  veiled  stranger  would  have 
dealings. 

"Who   was   that   young   woman 


A  STOET  OF  CHINATOWN.          73 

who  just  left  the  office,  Jackson — 
the  one  with  the  veil  over  her  face?" 
he  asked,  in  a  low  tone  of  voice,  not 
caring'  to  bring  down  upon  him  the 
amused  attention  of  the  other 
attaches. 

"Seeing  as  it  is  you,"  Jackson 
made  reply,  smiling  broadly,  "I 
don't  inind  telling  you  that  I  do  not 
know.  She  has  called  five  days 
past  for  answers  to  a  liner  she  is 
running  on  the  want  page;  always 
masked  with  that  infernal  veil  and 
never  getting  a  single  scrap  of  a 
reply.  I  have  been  tempted  to 
write  an  answer  to  the  advertise- 
ment myself,  just  in  hopes  of  get- 
ting a  glimpse  of  her  face.  If  it  is 
iD  line  with  her  shape  and  voice,  it 
would  be  worth  w^hile  to  give  her  a 
place,"  with  an  ugly  leer. 

"What  is  she  advertising  for — 


74  EDITH. 

what  does  she  want?"  Jack  rather 
coldly  questioned. 

"There  it  is";  and  Jackson  drew 
a  blue  circle  around  the  liner  in  the 
morning  paper: 

"Situation  Wanted.  —  A  young- 
woman  desires  employment  of  any 
kind  that  is  honest  and  honorable. 
Has  had  no  experience,  but  is  anx- 
ious to  learn  and  be  useful.  Address 
P.  43,  Tribune  Office.  t6" 

"Honest,  isn't  she?  Don't  pre- 
tend to  know  anything  useful,  but 
wants  to  be  tutored.  The  woods  are 
full  of  them,  apparently,  for  no  one 
seems  to  care  to  give  her  a  trial," 
Jackson  commented,  after  Sher- 
wood had  run  through  the  ad. 

"I  see  it  is  marked  times  six,  and 
you  say  it  has  been  in  five  days 
already?" 


A  STORY  OF  CHINATOWN.          75 

"Yes;  going  to  hire  her  for  a 
housekeeper,  Sherwood?" 

"I  am  obliged  to  you,"  Jack  said, 
ignoring  the  question  and  leaving 
the  office. 

He  had  an  idea.  It  might  be  a 
crazy  one,  but  it  had  a  firm  hold  on 
him;  it  would  not  be  shaken:  P.  43, 
Tribune  Office,  and  the  tenant  of 
No.  97  HelPs  Row  were  one  and  the 
same  individual.  He  took  a  car 
and  sought  the  home  of  his  friends, 
and  for  a  long  time  Jack  and  the 
colonel  were  in  consultation  to- 
gether in  the  sunny  library. 

"Try  your  plan,  anyway,"  the  old 
gentleman  had  finally  said.  "We 
have  but  one  more  day  to  reach  her 
by  this  means,  and  if  it  is  not  she 
we  can  at  least  give  the  stranger  a 
helping  hand;  her  advertisement 


76  EDITH. 

reads  as  though  she  sorely  needed 
aid." 

So  it  was  arranged,  and  an  hour 
later  the  city  mail  was  freighted 
with  one  letter  addressed  to  "P.  43, 
Care  Tribune  Office,  City."  And 
within  the  envelope  a  brief  note 
requested  the  advertiser  to  call  at 
1423  -  -  Street,  at  ten  o'clock 
the  following  morning;  an  invalid 
needed  a  companion.  Good  salary 
and  a  permanent  position  were  as- 
sured the  advertiser  if  she  was  the 
right  party  for  the  place. 

The  following  afternoon  found 
Jack  lying  in  wait  for  the  coming  of 
the  veiled  lady.  She  was  late  in 
making  her  last  call;  she  had  begun 
to  despair  of  securing  the  work  she 
needed  by  means  of  the  advertising 
columns  of  the  newspapers.  Slowly 
she  walked  down  the  street,  her 


A  STORY  OF  CHINATOWN.          77 

head  bent  forward  in  evident  dejec- 
tion. Wearily  she  climbed  the 
three  or  four  steps  leading  to  the 
counting-rooms ;  drearily  she  passed 
through  the  door  and  out  of  Sher- 
wood's sight.  When  she  again 
appeared  she  clutched  the  letter 
the  watcher  had  written,  hurriedly 
turned  homeward,  and  was  soon 
lost  to  sight.  A  whole  day  must 
elapse  ere  Jack  could  hope  to  learn 
the  result  of  the  little  scheme  that 
was  to  enable  his  sleeping-car 
acquain  tances  to  catch  a  glimpse  of 
the  face  that  was  hidden  behind  the 
thick  folds  of  the  baffling  veil. 

He  hurried  through  with  his 
lunch  the  next  day  and  sought  his 
desk  at  the  office;  but  no  letter 
awaited  him,  no  word  had  been  left 
in  his  absence.  The  three  o'clock 
mail,  however,  brought  a  missive 


78  EDITH. 

that  set  his  heart  loudly  thumping. 
It  was  in  the  colonel's  hand,  a  brief 
note,  but  its  few  lines  suggested 
volumes: 

"Our  answer  to  the  Tribune's 
advertisement  resulted  in  a  call 
from  the  advertiser.  She  will  give 
eminent  satisfaction;  we  have  given 
her  the  position  for  life.  My  wife 
sends  you  her  blessing;  call  at 
once  that  we  may  both  express  our 
heartfelt  gratitude.  If  mother's 
health  will  permit,  we  depart  for 
other  lands  in  a  week's  time." 

Jack  Sherwood  restrained  his 
impatience;  he  refrained  from  in- 
truding on  the  reunited  family  that 
first  day,  but  the  early  afternoon  of 
the  morrow  found  him  nervously 
puffing  at  a  cigar  on  the  rear  end  of 
a  car  that  passed  near  the  home  of 
the  White's. 


A  STORY  OF  CHINATOWN.          79 

A  little  later  his  good  right  hand 
was  nearly  crushed  to  a  jelly  in  the 
vise-like  grasp  of  the  sturdy  old 
father,  who  had  no  words  to  express 
the  feelings  that  mastered  him. 
The  dear  old  mother  was  already 
able  to  occupy  her  seat  by  the  blaz- 
ing fireplace;  the  joy  of  the  past 
twenty-four  hours,  tinctured  with 
sadness  though  it  was,  had  removed 
the  cause  of  her  prostration. 
Tenderly,  tearfully  she  drew  the 
head  of  the  overwhelmed  Jack 
down  to  her  and  gave  him  the  first 
motherly  kiss  his  brow  had  received 
for  something  more  than  half  a 
score  of  years. 

When  composure  had  settled 
down  upon  the  little  party  once 
more,  the  colonel  withdrew,  and 
shortly  returned  to  the  library  with 
the  mysterious  lady  of  the  veil,  the 


80  EDITH. 

fair  applicant  for  the  position  of 
life-companion  to  the  invalid  of  No. 
1423  -  -  Street,  timidly,  shrink- 
ingly  leaning  upon  his  arm. 

The  soft  brown  eyes  were  scarcely 
raised  to  meet  the  eager  gaze  of  the 
young  stranger,  who  was  presented 
to  —  "My  daughter,  Mr.  Sherwood ! 
Edith,  this  is  the  gentleman  who 
made  our  trip  from  the  East  pleas- 
ant with  his  company." 

And  the  shrinking  woman,  more 
beautiful  than  ever  in  the  simple 
house  costume,  though  her  face 
bore  evidences  of  the  great  up- 
heaval of  the  past  few  days  and 
hours,  would  have  wholly  collapsed 
with  shame  and  mortification  had 
she  known  that  this  same  hand- 
some youth  had  known  her  as  the 
tenant  of  No.  97  HelFs  Row;  had 
been  the  prime  factor  in  bringing 


A  STORY  OF  CHINATOWN.          81 

her  back  to  father  and  mother  and 
home. 

Jack  learned  afterwards  the 
story  of  Edith's  life  during  the 
time  that  she  had  been  without 
home  and  parents.  A  merciful 
providence  had  spared  her  child  the 
necessity  of  facing  the  world;  it  did 
not  live  to  see  the  light  of  day.  As 
soon  as  the  young  mother  was 
strong  enough,  she  fled  from  its 
black-hearted  father;  his  very  pres- 
ence poisoned  the  atmosphere  she 
breathed,  and  at  most  he  only  of- 
fered her  the  position  of  a  mistress. 

For  months  she  had  striven  for 
honest  labor,  living  upon  the  pro- 
ceeds of  the  sale  of  the  costly 
jewelry  and  raiment  that  she  had 
brought  away  with  her.  At  last 
she  gave  up  the  useless  struggle; 
only  one  avenue  of  making  a  liveli- 


82  EDITH. 

hood  seemed  open  to  the  young 
girl  without  a  name,  a  friend,  or  a 
talent  that  she  could  sell  or  turn  to 
profit.  Five  hundred  miles  from 
her  old  home,  discouraged  and  reck- 
less —  believing  that  father  and 
mother  had  forever  turned  their 
backs  upon  her — the  terrible  down- 
ward step  was  taken.  She  became 
a  part  and  parcel  of  Hell's  Row; 
day  by  day  the  chains  that  fettered 
her  to  the  prison-like  home  were 
forged,  grew  heavier.  She  had 
come  to  the  belief  that  there  was  no 
escape  for  her,  but  that,  like  those 
other  sisters  of  shame,  she  must  end 
her  brief  days  there  or  in  greater 
depths  of  degradation  and  woe. 

That  heartrending  mother's  cry 
which  had  broken  in  on  her  reveries 
on  that  New  Year  night  had 
aroused  the  dormant  womanhood 


A  STORY  OF  CHINATOWN.          83 

in  the  fair  breast.  All  that  night 
she  paced  her  rooms,  and  ere  morn- 
ing dawned  a  firm  resolve  to  break 
away  from  the  hell  on  earth  that 
she  was  living  had  shaped  itself  in 
the  mind  of  the  aroused  woman. 
She  would  die  for  the  want  of  a 
crust  of  bread,  but  would  never 
again  prostitute  her  body  before 
man  while  the  breath  of  life  re- 
mained. 

Many  pleasant  afternoons  Jack 
Sherwood  spent  at  the  colonel's 
home,  and  all  too  soon  the  day  came 
when  he  must  bid  father  and  mother 
-and  daughter,  good-by.  The 
colonel  proposed  making  a  tour  of 
old  Mexico,  and  sadly  Jack  saw  the 
last  of  his  good  friends  as  they 
waved  him  farewell  salutations 
from  the  car-windows;  fervently  he 
vowed  he  would  see  more  of  the 


84  EDITH. 

sturdy  old  colonel,  the  dear  sweet- 
faced  wife,  and  the  sad-visaged 
but  pathetically  beautiful  daughter 
when  they  should  have  returned 
to  their  Northern  home  and  he 
would  be  privileged  to  accept  the 
oft-repeated  and  urgent  invitations 
of  the  parents  to  pay  them  a  long 
visit. 


Of  TM» 

UNIVERSITY 


IN  THE  BEACON  LIBRARY  SERIES. 


THE    REIGN    OF    LU5T. 

BY  THE    DUKE  OF    OATMEAL. 


This  is  a  remarkably  clever  burlesque  or  satire  on  a  well  known 
work  written  by,  and  on  certain  doctrines  attributed  to,  a  prominent 
Scotch  nobleman  and  British  liberal  statesman,  who  is  thinly  dis- 
guised under  the  title  of  "  The  Duke  of  Oatmeal."  By  "  lust "  the 
author  means  greed,  and  his  object  is  to  show  that,  by  following  the 
Duke's  line  of  argument,  lust  or  greed  can  be  proved  to  be  the  great 
ruling  force  of  the  universe;  that  it  animates  all  things,  from  the 
atom,  which  seeks  to  attract  other  atoms,  up  to  man,  with  his  in- 
satiate greed  for  wealth  and  power. 

The  argument  touches  upon  all  the  burning,  social  and  eco- 
nomic questions  of  the  day  in  a  vein  of  light  but  biting  satirical 
commentary  and  caricature.  In  its  forcible  commendation  of  every- 
thing that  tends  to  show  that  the  world  has  no  meaning  or  purpose 
apart  from  the  greed  of  human  nature  the  author  whips  the  orthodox 
economists,  who  without  logic  or  knowledge  of  natural  laws  claim 
that  their  partisan  quibbling  and  baseless  assumptions  constitute  a 
science. 

The  work  is  pungently  and  brilliantly  written,  and  the  author 
deals  some  very  telling  blows  at  the  object  of  his  satire,  and  happily 
parodies  his  somewhat  pompous  and  dogmatic  style  and  his  partiality 
for  the  use  of  capitals.  By  those  who  like  to  see  a  grave  subject 
occasionally  treated  in  a  vein  of  keen  and  witty  but  good-natured 
badinage — and  who  does  not? — this  entertaining  parody  will  be 
greatly  enjoyed;  and  probably  by  no  one  more  than  by  the  writer 
at  whom  it  is  aimed. 


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Copley  Square,  Boston,  Mass. 


A  STRANGE  STORY  OF  DUAL  PERSONALITY. 
A  STUDY  IN  HYPNOTISM. 


THE  MYSTERY  OF  EYELIN  DELORME. 

By  ALBERT  BIGELOW  PAINE. 

This  is  a  novelette  of  remarkable  strength  and  brilliance,  and  it 
will  be  read  at  a  sitting,  because,  once  taken  up,  it  cannot  be  put 
down  until  the  end  is  reached.  The  author's  name  will  be  new  to 
many  readers,  but  in  our  day  the  public  finds  no  fault  with  new 
names  in  literature  so  long  as  they  stand  for  novelty  and  power  and 
skill,  and  this  is  a  story  that  has  made  a  hit  on  account  of  the 
author's  remarkable  skill  in  giving  the  verisimilitude  of  fact  to  the 
most  fantastic  flight  of  the  imagination. 

The  story  deals  with  an  entirely  unfamiliar  and  startling  situation 
in  hypnotism.  It  is  not  merely  transposed  or  assumed  personality 
with  which  the  author  deals,  but  a  new  and  curious  problem  in  dual 
personality.  Eva  Delorrne  is  an  innocent,  pure  minded,  gentle  type 
of  girlhood,  of  superior  breeding  and  quiet  manners,  who  becomes  in- 
terested in  hypnotism.  She  applies  to  a  well  known  hypnotist  to  be 
put  under  a  test.  From  this  she  comes  to  herself  a  gay,  heartless 
woman  of  the  world.  In  her  dual  character  as  Eva  Delorme  and 
Evelin  March  alternated,  she  sits  to  an  artist  who  paints  her  who 
believes  that  he  is  painting  two  separate  persons  and  is  in  love  with 
both. 

Upon  this  mystification  the  tragedy  of  the  story  is  based. 

There  is  something  very  uncanny  in  the  th  -ught  that  it  is  possible 
for  us  to  come  so  entirely  under  the  control  of  another  that  what  has 
always  seemed  our  real  self— our  normal  personality — is  lost  for  the 
the  time  being.  "  The  Mystery  of  Evelin  Delorme  "  is  based  upon 
the  power  of  hypnotism,  and  gives  an  extreme  illustration  of  the  in- 
fluence exercised  over  a  susceptible  person  by  one  possessing,  in 
high  degree,  this  power.  The  author  has  made  a  double  study  here, 
and  the  little  volume  which,  at  first,  seems  a  story  to  be  read 
through  quickly  and  laid  aside,  seems  before  the  end  is  reached  to 
hold  one  more  and  more.  Mr.  Paine,  in  his  story,  has  made  an 
interesting  study  of  the  subject,  and  has  given  with  comparatively 
few  strokes,  two  characters  — Julian  Goetze  and  Evelin  Delorme  — 
which  stand  out  with  marked  prominence. —  Boston  Transcript. 

The  heroine  is  the  subject  of  the  most  remarkable  transformations 
in  character  and  appearance,  effected  by  the  weird  art  of  the 
hypnotizer.  —  Denver  Republican. 

Among  all  the  multitudinous  and  multtfarous  hypnotic  incidents 
of  the  story  writers  of  to-day,  this  is  as  ingenious  as  any  we  have 
noticed. —  Topeka  Capital. 


A  NEW  STORY  PAINTING  THE  ROMANCE 

HISTORY  OF  THE  COLONIZATION  OF  AMERICA  AS 

IT  MIGHT  HAVE  BEEN. 

MRISTOPIM. 

A  HISTORY  IN  ROMANCE. 

BY  CASTELLO  N.  HOLFORD. 

One  of  the  most  strikingly  original  romances  issued  from  the  press 
in  recent  years.  It  is  founded  on  a  perfectly  novel  idea,  never  be- 
fore utilized  in  fiction,  and  gives  an  imaginative  picture  of  what  this 
country  and  its  history  "might  have  been"  had  its  foundations 
been  laid  and  its  beginnings  moulded  under  the  fostering  care  of  a 
man  of  thoroughly  enlightened  views,  animated  by  the  single  desire 
of  benefiting  his  fellow-creatures  to  the  utmost. 

Aristopia  is  the  name  of  a  colony  founded  by  a  young  English- 
man in  Virginia  in  the  seventeenth  century,  under  a  charter  obtained 
from  King  James.  The  name,  like  that  of  Sir  Thomas  More's 
famous  social  vision,  is  derived  from  the  Greek  and  means  "  the 
best  place."  The  author's  purpose  in  telling  this  facinating  story  of 
colonization  in  the  seventeenth  century,  is  not  to  look  forward  to 
some  impossible  millennial  society,  such  as  that  pictured  in  More's 
"  Utopia,"  or  Bellamy's  "  Looking  Backward,"'  but  to  show  the  lost 
opportunities  of  the  past.  A  glowing  picture  is  given  of  the  uni- 
versal prosperity,  peace,  contentment,  and  happiness  which  would 
have  been  the  lot  of  the  people  under  such  favoring  circumstances, 
and  of  the  earthly  paradise  which  the  country  would  by  this  time 
have  become,  in  place  of  the  spectacle  of  social  and  political  unrest 
which  it  now  presents.  Aside  from  the  interest  of  the  story,  the 
book  will  provide  much  food  for  thought  for  reformers  and  others 
who  are  seeking  a  sure  pathway  out  of  our  present  bemuddlement. 


Price,  Cloth,  $1.25;  Paper,  So  Cents. 

For  sale  by  all  Booksellers  or  sent  postpaid  on  receipt  of  price  by 
the  publishers. 

THE  ARENA  PUBLISHING  CO., 

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A  LOVE  STORY  OF  POWER. 


for  39    Impure 


By  WILLIAM  WHITTEMORE  TUFTS. 

This  is  a  very  charming  love  story,  whose  scene  is  one  of  those 
delightful  old  New  England  towns,  which  afford  so  many  interesting 
contrasts  of  characters. 

The  central  figure  in  the  story  is  Peyton  Wade,  a  man  of  impulse, 
who  is  actuated  by  the  highest  ideals  and  motives  in  life.  The 
author  skilfully  shows  how,  although  his  honesty  of  character  com- 
mands the  respect  of  his  townsfolk,  it  stands  in  the  way  of  his  ad- 
vancement and  bars  him  up  in  poverty  at  every  turn.  The  manner 
in  which  the  man  of  impulse  falls  in  love  and  finds  a  market  for  his 
lofty  ideals  and  generous  sacrifices  is  very  delightfully  drawn. 
Margaret  Hillworthy,  who  loves  him,  also  wins  the  interest  of  the 
reader  at  once. 

It  is  a  story  of  great  power,  told  with  quietness  and  the  charm  of 
a  light,  deft  touch  of  style.  All  the  characters  are  distinct  person- 
alities, and  their  most  fantastic  doings  seem  real  and  natural. 

The  dialogue  is  especially  smart  and  natural  and  sparkling,  re- 
minding the  reader  here  and  there  in  its  bright,  epigrammatic-  turns 
of  George  Meredith's  playful  cut  and  thrust,  and  again  of  Charlotte 
Bronte's  keen  and  deft  fixing  of  moods  and  character  in  the  ex- 
change of'everyday  topics,  used  to  subtly  touch  deeper  themes.  It 
glides  lightly  over  the  deeper  springs  of  human  thought  and  conduct, 
and  reveals  as  few  contemporary  writers  can,  the  dramatic  intensity 
of  the  psychological  tragedy  of  life  beneath  its  apparent  round  of 
mmotony.  The  storv,  too,  has  incident  and  spirit  and  moves 

§uickly.     It  is  distinctly  clever  and  quite  out  of  the  ordinary  run  of 
ction.     All  the  characters  have  reality  and  force,  and  the  author 
shows  great  skill  in  lighting  up  unusual  types  of  character.     The 
story,  too,  is  very  original  in  theme,  and  the  whole  shows  literary 
attainments  of  a  high  order. 

Price,  Cloth,  $1.25;  Paper,  50  Cents. 

For  sale  by  all  Booksellers  or  sent  postpaid  on  receipt  of  price  by 
the  publishers. 

THE  ARENA  PUBLISHING  CO., 

Copley  Square,  Boston,  Mass. 


In  the  New  Beacon  Series  from  the  Press  of  the 
Arena  Publishing  Company, 

ONE  THOUSAND  DOLLARS  A  DAY. 

By  ADELINE  KNAPP.     Cloth  !*1.OO. 

l|  this  book  the  famous  poet  Joaquin  Miller  has  said,  "  ("I real 

tal  stuff!   Full  of  good  points,  well  put." 

'1  'In-;  volume  of  short,  racy  stories  promises  to  be  one  of  the 
most  pronounced  literary  hi'ts  which  the  Arena  Publishing  Coin- 
puny  has  made  in  this  line  of  literature.  It  will  surely  make  a 

for  itself  and  its  author  in  the  front  ran' 
literature. 

The  writer  :•  .  v  >ung  newspaj-  ; 

Coast,  whose  work  has  been  along  somewhat  •  '  es  from 

those  that  usually  fall  to  the  lot  of  the  woman  in  journalism.      It 
has  brought  her  face  to  face  with  many  of  the  socio-economic 
problems  that  even  newspaper  workers  do  not  often  have  to  deal 
with,  and  these  sketches  have  been  the  outcome  < 
earnest  study  of  these  problems. 

Miss  Knapp  has  received  for  her  work  a  mental  equipment 
which  comes  in  the  way  of  few  women,  or  men  either.  Her 

.;ile  mind  has  enabled  her  to  fill  all  department-  in  : 
paperwork. —  AVw  York  Recor 

•ems  as  though  her  range  knew  no  limit.     Whether  dis- 
cussing economic  questions,  or    writing  exquisite  sketch' 
medical  articles  that  interest  snvans  and  laymen,  or  describing 
the   heroes  she  so  much  loves,  she  seems  equally   at   home. — 
Scitt/it  ru  Maga~i' 

It  must  be  admitted  that  this  little  book  does  give  the  thought- 
ful men  and  women  of  America  something  to  think  about.  Miss 
Knapp  presents  \vhat  she  has  to  say  in  a  very  readable  style. — 
Tke  Times,  Denver,  Col. 

The  book  is  excellent  in  its  suggestive  thought.  It  is  made 
up  of  five  sketches  besides  the  one  giving  name  to  the  book. — 
The  Inter-Ocean ,  Chi 

-.mall  acceptable  volume  of  sketches  embodying  a  series  of 
-tive  and  homely  studies  in  social  economics.       Every -clay 
,;id  women  will  find  many  practical  hints  in  the  little  book. 
—  Tlie  Press,  Philadelphia. 

The  stories  are  written  in  a  sprightly  manner  and  will  take 
with  the  reading  public. —  The  Hawk  /-.)'''>  Burlington,  Iowa. 

A  Good  Book  is  like  a  Beacon  on  a  Hill. 

lie  by  all  Bookseller-  eipt  ol   price 

by  the  publi.-' 

THE  ARENA  PUBLISHING  COMPANY, 

f  oploy  Square,          -  Jiostoii,  Mass. 


A   SEQUEL   TO 

"THE  STRIKE  OF  A  SEX." 
"AFTER  THE  SEX  STRUCK. 


BY   THE    SAME    AUTHOR. 


The  thousands  of  readers  who  have  been  held  and 
fascinated  by  the  vistas  of  hope  and  happiness  held 
out  to  suffering  men  and  womankind  in  "  The  Strike 
of  a  Sex,"  will  be  glad  to  learn  that  the  question 
raised  and  left  involved  in  mystery  in  that  book  has 
been  answered.  In  response  to  numberless  inquiries 
regarding  the  nature  and  method  of  Zugassent's  Dis- 
covery, Mr.  George  N.  Miller  has  given  a  categorical 
answer  to  the  question  in  a  sequel  called  "  After  the 
Sex  Struck  ;  or,  Zugassent's  Discovery."  It  is  given  in 
a  very  compact  form  in  a  little  booklet  that  is  read  in- 
side an  hour.  This  slender  presentation  of  a  subject 
which  is  inseparably  connected  with  the  gravest 
problems  of  the  age  is  made  because  the  author,  who 
is  intensely  in  earnest,  is  unwilling  to  be  thought 
capable  of  having  trifled  with  a  subject  which  con- 
cerns the  happiness  of  every  human  being.  The 
book  aims  simply  to  introduce  an  idea  which  has 
been  proved  to  possess  the  highest  spiritual  and  phy- 
sical value,  leaving  to  the  scientific  minds  who  are 
now  studying  it  in  France,  England  and  Germany,  to 
establish  its  deep  significance  as  a  satisfactory  solution 
of  the  sexual  and  population  problems. 

In  the  COPLEY  SQUARE  SERIES. 

Price,  Paper,  25  Cents. 

For  sale  by  all  Booksellers,  or  sent  postpaid  on  re- 
ceipt of  price  by  the  publishers. 

ARENA  PUBLISHING  COHPANY, 

BOSTON,  HASS: 


